Regression
by GoldenGrimoire
Summary: Sasori felt like he was hurtling backwards to where he'd started, and it was all that brat's fault. Sasori/Sakura, Lemon, Semi-AU


**30_lemons prompt: **#21. Alone Time, or, "When I Think About You, I Touch Myself"

**Author's Note: ** Written for the 30_lemons prompt challenge community on LiveJournal. An AU that diverges considerably after the rescue Gaara arc.

**Warnings:** Explicit sexual content, and, as can be expected from the prompt, masturbation.

* * *

The very idea of it was utterly ridiculous to Sasori. He wasn't some damned hormonal teenager, even if he still had the same youthful face he'd had back then. Twenty-five years later, such things should be well behind him; and yet, he felt like he was hurtling backwards to where he'd started, because he was lying in a bed he hardly used, thinking of _her_, and desperately resisting a primal urge that he'd thought was purged from his system when he'd left his flesh behind.

He was certain that he'd made no mistakes in crafting his puppet body. Sight and sound were vital senses for a shinobi, so of course, he added them. Taste and smell too, were of considerable use when crafting poisons. After much thought, touch was included for the sake of his puppetry, minus the ability to feel pain. He had existed in a state of near perfection, impassive and measured, for twenty years afterwards, with never a hint of a desire for any worldly pleasures; those two decades had proven that his judgment had been sound.

No, it was all that damned brat's fault. Sakura had captured his attention when they'd first fought because of her surprising performance; however, he didn't really consider her appearance very much at the time, other than to note that she was somewhat attractive and had an absurd hair color that couldn't possibly be natural.

That had changed the moment she destroyed his precious Third Kazekage, when she fiercely met his shocked gaze. The inner strength and determination that burned in her eyes had pierced through his detachment just as effectively as her fist had shattered his puppet into a thousand pieces.

Perhaps that brief connection was the real reason he'd dramatically faked his death rather than simply retreating when they'd already thought him defeated, grudgingly giving her the victory she had rightfully earned. Or perhaps he had simply wanted the chance to speak with her just a little bit longer, to learn more about this curious, delicate-looking girl with monstrous strength and glittering green eyes. Since then, those eyes had haunted his dreams during the rare times when he needed to rest his mind.

His hand twitched where it rested on his bared abdomen, his cloak already unfastened earlier when he had flopped carelessly onto his bed without even bothering to remove it. He clamped down once more on the urge that overcame him at the thought of her bound and on her knees with those blazing and defiant eyes gazing fiercely up at him, that urge to slide his hand lower.

It had only gotten worse since Sakura had joined the Akatsuki. It had been a major shock when she had stepped out from behind Leader during the meeting called to introduce their newest member; he didn't know how the brat had obtained Orochimaru's ring or why she had chosen to join their ranks, and she refused to speak of her reasons to anyone other than Leader. Sasori suspected that it had something to do with Itachi's little brother; her eyes always grew colder at any mention of that Uchiha.

The image of her at that meeting was burned into his mind, and his hand twitched again as he recalled it. She had been an attractive enough little girl during their battle, but five years had transformed her into a beautiful woman. It seemed to be only her eyes that had changed little; they were still as fierce and determined as ever, albeit colder. The way her cloak draped around her body hinted at a figure that had filled out in all the right places since he had seen her last, and her face had matured into a true beauty as well, its pale skin making her lusciously full lips stand out.

Then there were Sakura's hands, a part of the body that Sasori had cultivated a particular interest in over the years due to his specialty. Hers were seemingly fragile at first glance, pale and delicate with beautifully slender fingers, but possessing a subtle pattern of barely visible scars that hinted at their use as powerful weapons.

His pants grew tighter as he thought of those delicate hands of hers reaching within and lightly stroking his cock, her slender fingers then wrapping firmly around his length. The pleasant image sent his own hand creeping further down his abdomen as if of its own accord until he was able to regain control of himself just as his fingers reached the sash around his waist.

Sasori frowned. That the brat was one of his colleagues now was bad enough, but it could have at least been tolerable if she'd been paired with one of the others, and thus away on missions and out of his sight most of the time. But no, the worst part of it all was that Leader had chosen to reassign his longtime partner Deidara to work with Tobi, Zetsu's replacement...leaving the brat as his new partner.

Admittedly, he couldn't deny Sakura had proven to be a competent partner after a bit of a rocky start; although she still never showed him the proper respect, she actually listenedtohim during missions, unlike Deidara. Occasionally she even had an idea or two of her own that was worth consideration. It had led them to become quite a formidable pair in battle; that aspect of their partnership wasn't the problem.

No, the real problem was that Sasori was around that damned brat constantly, and he couldn't help but notice more and more little things about Sakura that agitated him. How the nape of her neck sometimes peeked out of her cloak's high collar when she would shift forwards; the subtle, clean scent of lavender soap that clung to her skin and hair; the breathy sighs she would emit when stretching her limbs before sparring; her habit of nibbling on her bottom lip when worried or deep in thought; the wicked, exhilarated grin on her face whenever she used her immense strength to shatter the ground beneath her.

The need to restrain himself around the brat was driving him mad; he'd almost slipped once, two months ago on a mission in River Country. But he knew he had no choice, for Leader surely wouldn't approve of Sasori forcing himself on Sakura even if the hypocritical bastard had that kept woman of his masquerading as a real member. At least the brat had unmistakably earned her place among their ranks on her strengths, not on her back.

Although, picturing the brat lying on her back underneath him and biting her lip to suppress her moans as he slid inside of her was definitely appealing; so much so that he had barely even noticed that he had untied his sash and was only able to stop himself when his hand was halfway down his unfastened pants.

And then, there was what had happened just hours before: the reason that Sasori was completely unable to concentrate on his work, the event that ultimately forced him to retreat to his bedroom because he couldn't think about anything else.

"You need to practice your own taijutsu more instead of relying on your puppets all the time, old man," Sakura had said, and needled Sasori until he grudgingly agreed to spar with her hand to hand. That had been a major error in judgment on his part, because it had not been long before she had knocked him to the ground, and he had of course expertly flipped them. And then he'd had to deal with the feel of her invitingly soft body pressed underneath his, her flushed face inches away from his own and her breath coming out in gasps from full, parted red lips. When their eyes had met, it had taken every ounce of control that he had to push himself off of her rather than crash his lips down onto hers and ravish her then and there.

The heady images of what he had wanted to do...no, what he _should_ have done to that damned brat that afternoon flooded his mind and pushed away all rational thought. He should have torn her cloak open and attacked her throat with his lips. He should have stripped her completely, and squeezed and licked and nibbled on her breasts until she whimpered and begged for more. He should have made her writhe and scream by slipping his mouth down between her legs and devouring her like a ripe, succulent piece of fruit.

Sasori shuddered as his control snapped and his hand at last slipped down into his pants and brushed against his already erect cock. Male vanity had ensured that, like his face and his hands, this part of his body would also be as lifelike as possible, even if he had never expected to make use of it ever again.

His fingers slid over the tip as he was overwhelmed with more images of what he wanted to do to Sakura. He wanted to teach that damned girl some respect by making her kneel down and wrap those lovely red lips of hers around his shaft. He wanted to hear her beg desperately for him to fuck her while she squirmed, naked beneath him, the need for him crystal clear in her eyes and her face and her voice.

And oh, how he wanted to fuck her. He began to stroke his cock as he thought of what it would feel like to slip inside of her and bury himself completely within, of how wet and hot and tight she would be; he groaned and gripped his shaft more firmly as his hand slid up and down his length, imagining that it was her inner walls squeezing around him rather than his fingers. He imagined the sounds she would make as he fucked her; those captivating breathy sighs, perhaps gasps and moans not unlike those she made sometimes when sleeping or massaging her tired limbs after a battle. And then, there was the sound that he wanted to hear most from her lips: his name, spoken over and over with the worshipful submission of a supplicant praying to a fearsome and powerful god.

He would make the brat suffer for all of this, Sasori resolved as he stroked himself, his hand gliding more smoothly from the fluids that had begun to seep out from the tip of his cock. He would bind her with his chakra strings and tease her body with his fingers and lips until she begged for his forgiveness. He would make her cry for mercy by thrusting into her relentlessly from behind, pushing her to the brink and then pulling back to deny her release again and again. He would fuck her until she broke and acknowledged him as her master.

Sasori latched onto the tantalizing thought of being Sakura's absolute master. It didn't matter that she was his partner and technically his equal, he'd make her his puppet within this room at least. He couldn't resist picturing her on her knees again, but this time she was naked and looking up at him adoringly and begging to be allowed the privilege of pleasing her dear master Sasori-sama. He lost himself to his imagination then, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, indulging in the pure pleasure of fisting his cock while picturing the brat eagerly sucking on her beloved master's shaft.

"Yes, Sakura," he murmured, "show your master the proper respect."

"Hey, old man," said a bright feminine voice, "I've finished that poisons book you...lent...me..."

The sound of said book hitting the floor cut through the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.

He'd gotten so caught up in his fantasy that he had not registered the door to his bedroom opening, and opened his eyes to see the object of his desires standing in his doorway and staring at him.

"S-Sasori..what..." Sakura said, the shock of finding him in such a compromising state written all over her face.

"This? _This_ is all your fault, you damned brat," Sasori said, gesturing with his chin downwards, refusing to stop the sliding of his hand. "_You_ made me do this."

He expected her to be furious that not only was he touching himself while thinking of her, but that he also had no intentions of stopping in her presence. She was the one who had entered his room so rudely, after all; it was her own fault if she saw something upsetting. He expected her to overreact as usual and storm out immediately to see Leader and demand to be given a different partner because he was a pervert. Or maybe she would burst into tears and flee like a typical woman, bawling about feeling violated or some such nonsense.

Instead, her eyes widened, and she stayed rooted to the spot.

"Because of me?" Sakura whispered.

It occurred to Sasori then that he had been rather blind not to have noticed the attraction she felt towards him before.

He looked up, and stared straight into those wide eyes of hers, deliberately slowing his hand as it smoothly stroked up and down on his cock. He could tell the sight of him like this was having an effect on her: her cheeks began to flush, her lips parted as her breathing became more labored, and her darkening eyes drifted down and became transfixed by the languid motion of his hand as he continued to stroke himself while she watched.

"Well, if you're going to keep watching, little girl," Sasori murmured, grinning when he saw Sakura shiver at the sound of his voice, "you may as well come closer and get a better look."

"I..."

"Feel free to make yourself more comfortable as well," he said, his gaze flicking down her body as he continued to stroke his cock.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath; when she exhaled and opened them again, they held that same fierceness that had engaged him from the very beginning.

With deliberate, sensual movements and her eyes never leaving his, she began to cross the room, unfastening her cloak as she approached.

Sasori's eyes were riveted to Sakura as she let her cloak slide off her shoulders to pool around her feet; he had seen her like this often before, wearing practically the same plain garb underneath her robe as the rest of the members, but on her the tight mesh and dark fabric was incredibly alluring. She paused as she seductively slipped her clothing off, piece by piece; his hand continued in its slow stroking motion around his shaft while he watched her strip for him, his grip tightening as more and more of her pale skin was revealed to his gaze.

As she closed the distance between her and the bed, she loosened her ponytail and slipped the scratched-out Konoha headband off of her head, dropping it to the floor and allowing her pink hair to cascade down around her face and shoulders.

Sakura stood at the foot of the bed then, wearing only her black chest bindings and a pair of terribly impractical black lace panties that sat scandalously low on her hips. Her eyes fixated on Sasori's cock again, she slinked forwards onto the bed between his legs until her face was rather close to it. She continued to watch him stroke himself, and he twitched in his hand when he saw her tongue dart out and moisten her lips. All he could picture at that moment was her crawling forwards those last few inches and slipping her lips down to envelop him, and it took all the restraint he had to not grab her by the hair and forcibly drag her mouth down onto his shaft when she made no move to do so.

"Is it real?" she asked softly.

Sasori never could have imagined Sakura watching him like this so brazenly, on all fours, her intense, desirous gaze fixed on his cock, and her breasts straining against the constricting black fabric that bound them so tightly. Her shapely ass was at just the perfect height for him to move behind her, slide her panties aside and fuck her hard and rough just as he had pictured earlier; his cock twitched again at the thought of doing just that.

However, even if it was killing him not to take her immediately, he still struggled to remain patient. She was so close to willingly giving him what he'd been craving all this time, and he didn't want to ruin his chances with her now. All she needed was just a little bit of a push in the right direction.

"Why don't you touch it and find out for yourself?" Sasori said, his voice low.

That seemed to be enough, because Sakura shifted forwards just as he'd been hoping she would. She met his eyes and rested a hand on his thigh, slowly sliding it upwards; he tensed under her light touch, and he realized he was breathing harder, as if his body actually needed the air for something other than speaking. Her eyes began to follow the motion of her hand as it slid further and further upwards, until she placed her hand on top of his own around his cock.

Sasori narrowed his eyes and abruptly shifted the position of his hand so that it was her hand that was underneath his; he bit back a groan and let his hand fall away as he felt her delicate fingers wrap around his cock and slide over his entire length, exploring every bit of it gently. For someone who used her fists as weapons, the feel of her hand was startlingly, silky soft; it was so much better than he had imagined.

"It feels different," Sakura murmured.

She licked her lips and leaned forwards, her eyes shifting back to stare into his. And then, at last, she delicately licked the tip of his shaft. He hissed and couldn't suppress a shudder at the wonderful feel of even that brief contact.

How was it even possible for his artificial body to have all these involuntary reactions? Sasori had intended to never experience such things ever again. This damned woman had taken the absolute control of his own body that he thought he had away from him.

When Sakura opened her lips and slipped her mouth over the tip of his cock, his eyes slid shut as he lost control of his mind as well. For a long moment, the only thing he could think of was how incredible it felt to feel her soft lips and warm, inviting mouth sliding down around his hardness and sucking on it gently, and how he wanted her to engulf every inch of his shaft. The groan he had suppressed before escaped.

Eventually, Sasori opened his eyes again to discover that Sakura had been watching him intently, her eyes partially obscured by her tousled pink locks. He gasped when she slid her lips up so that only his very tip was in her mouth, and she swirled her tongue around it while she smoothly stroked the rest of his length with a firm grip. She slipped him out of her mouth for a brief moment, giving the underside of his cock a long, slow lick from base to tip that had him gripping the bedsheets tightly.

"It tastes different, too." Sakura grinned. "You react like it's the real thing, though. I guess you really can still feel things except for pain, old man."

Damn this woman, there was no way that she could be a virgin if she was this good at sucking his cock. He had to take control of the situation before he forgot himself again and let her have the upper hand; as soon as she wrapped her lips around his shaft once more, he grabbed her hair and pulled on it hard to encourage her to take in more of him and to set the rhythm of her movements.

"Cheeky brat," he said, scowling. "Put that smart mouth of yours back to use."

It didn't take long, however, for Sasori's annoyance to evaporate; it was difficult to hold on to his irritation when Sakura seemed to be redoubling her efforts to please him. She sucked on him harder, using her lips and tongue to massage his cock as it slid in and out of her mouth at the pace he set via a hand fisted in her hair; he soon found himself giving in to the pleasurable sensations of the experience once more.

If the situation was different, Sasori would have been more than happy to let Sakura continue until he came in her mouth, but after everything she had put him through, that wasn't nearly enough. He knew he wasn't going to be even close to satisfied until he had made full use of her body, and he didn't want to wait any longer to experience it.

"Enough. Take off your chest bindings," he said, letting go of her hair. "And come closer."

Sakura slipped him out of her mouth and crawled over him, slipping a leg over his thigh to straddle it. She sat back and began to slowly unwind the long, thin strip of black fabric that restrained her breasts, gradually revealing more and more of the soft curves that had been tightly constrained against her body.

"Beautiful," Sasori said softly as he drank in the sight of Sakura's bared breasts; they were slightly larger than he had thought due to the bindings, and his artist's eye heartily approved of her balanced proportions. He reached up and slid his hand over one of her breasts, and he shuddered at both the feel of the inviting flesh under his fingers and the soft sigh she made as she arched her back to encourage him. She wrapped her hand around his length and began to stroke him again as he squeezed her breast and slid his thumb over her hardening nipple.

She had pressed herself down on his thigh, grinding herself against him slowly. He couldn't resist the urge to slip his hand down into her panties. She gasped when he traced a finger along her slit; he was surprised at how wet she already was.

"Sasori," she sighed, throwing her head back.

Hearing Sakura speak his name as she pressed her hips down onto his hand was what finally made Sasori snap, and he pulled her roughly down onto him so he could press his lips hard against hers. She squirmed on top of him, crushing her breasts against his chest, her hand still stroking him just as his was still sliding over her clit. She moaned against his mouth, and he wasted no time in slipping his tongue inside to taste and explore her; she didn't hesitate to put her own tongue to use, probing and caressing and intertwining with his just as aggressively.

He rolled her onto her back without breaking their kiss, and wrestled with removing his bunched up and tangled cloak; she quickly reached up to push his cloak off of his shoulders, and after a bit of frenzied struggling on both their parts the troublesome garment was tossed aside.

Their lips parted at last and Sakura panted, catching her breath; She threaded her fingers through Sasori's hair and arched her head back with a whimper when he immediately turned the attention of his tongue and teeth and lips down to her throat. He was determined to taste every inch of her skin before the evening was over.

Leaving red marks all over the pale skin in its wake, his mouth slid down to her breast and enveloped her nipple, nibbling and sucking on it eagerly. She pressed his head closer to her chest and cried out when he suddenly thrust his fingers deep inside of her with little resistance, flicking her clit repeatedly with his thumb.

Sakura's hands slipped to his shoulders and she encouraged him to move his head lower, clearly just as impatient as he was; Sasori certainly wasn't averse to the idea and readily slipped his lips downwards. He smiled against her skin when he reached one of the few scars that marred her body, left behind by the sword wound he had inflicted on her during their battle five years before. She gasped when he paused to languidly run his tongue over it; her eyes may have haunted him for years, but he'd left his own more tangible mark on her as well.

Sasori's lips continued their downward slide over Sakura's hips, which were rising off of the bed to meet the thrusts of his fingers. As soon as his mouth reached the waistband of her panties, he hastily yanked them down with his free hand and her assistance until they were pulled away from her body and discarded to the floor.

His mouth watered as his eyes took in her neatly trimmed pink curls (he'd been wrong about it not being her natural color) and more importantly, the sensitive, slicked folds that lay below them that his fingers were currently embedded knuckle deep in.

Now it was her turn to clutch desperately at the sheets beneath her and gasp when his mouth descended upon her, and her reaction made him feel smug and back in control at last. He definitely had the upper hand now, and he took his time to enjoy it.

Sasori didn't care to compare Sakura's taste or her smell to fruits or honey or flowers or other florid absurdities. That it was the raw taste and smell of _her,_ moaning, writhing, sweating, and completely vulnerable under his mouth, that was what made it so delectable and addictive. Sliding and swirling his tongue over her clit and over her folds, around where his fingers were still sliding in and out of her, he felt her fingers caressing the back of his head and urging him to move faster.

"Please," Sakura gasped.

Looking back up at her, Sasori's gaze traveled up between her breasts, quivering from the motion of her hips, to rest on her strained face. He was transfixed, his eyes glued to her when he saw the barest glimpse of her teeth as she bit her full, red bottom lip to contain a whimper. Sakura squirmed more and more, turning her head from side to side as if she was unsure of where to look, her moans getting louder and louder and her body growing steadily tenser. Her hand in his hair began to clutch and pull wildly on the strands in a way that would be painful if he could still experience that sensation.

He didn't think it was possible for him to get any harder, but it felt like he did when he saw her face as she came, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she cried out. Her inner muscles clamped down tightly on his thrusting fingers in rhythmic pulses that he wished he was experiencing around another part of his body.

Of course, he intended to do just that soon enough.

Giving her one more lick before slipping his fingers out of her, he pulled back and drank in how enticing she looked, naked in his bed, disheveled, flushed, and panting from his mouth and his touch. He couldn't resist getting one last taste of her, and met her gaze as he licked her fluids off of his fingers, her own tongue slipping out briefly to lick her lips as she watched him with narrowed eyes.

"You really shouldn't keep a girl waiting, you know," Sakura said, her eyes sliding down his body as he started to slip his pants off, his movements deliberately slow and teasing. "I thought you of all people would know that, old man."

"You're right. Normally, I wouldn't," Sasori said, and smirked, "but rude little girls like you deserve to be kept waiting."

He had intended to tease her more by crawling over her slowly, but she impatiently pulled him on top of her just as boldly as he had done to her before; she kissed him deeply, unabashedly sliding her tongue into his mouth, and didn't seem at all bothered by the taste of herself that was on his lips. Considering her aggressiveness, perhaps she even enjoyed it.

Both of them urgently reached down in between them to guide his cock inside of her, her eagerness making Sasori smirk inwardly. He hissed as he entered her; Sakura was more than wet enough, to be sure, but despite the presence of his fingers within her only moments before, she was still so tight that he was forced to ease his way in slowly. She wrapped her legs around his hips, insistently encouraging him to slide in deeper.

Once he was completely buried within her, he paused for a moment to take in the sensation of her tight, wet heat completely enveloping his cock. It had been far, far too long since he'd had a woman.

He pulled most of the way out before thrusting back in, again and again at a decadently slow pace that was matched by the rolling of her hips and punctuated by her moans. Sakura felt incredibly hot underneath him and around his cock; his cool body seemed to greedily drink in her living warmth.

All his elaborate plans of punishment and revenge, all those images and fantasies of the cruel things Sasori wished to do to her were fading in the face of the primal experience of fucking her, of actually feeling her naked body writhing underneath him. He lost himself to the feel of her smooth skin sliding so pleasantly against his body, to the feel of her soft breasts and hard nipples pressed against his chest, and to the feel of her squeezing and clenching tightly around his shaft as it slickly glided in and out of her.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, intoxicated by the unique scent of her sweat-slicked skin. He reveled in the sweet sounds of her moans and sighs and whimpers, the sounds she made that showed her approval of every thrust. And then she clutched at him, wrapping her limbs around him tightly and murmuring his name in his ear.

"Sasori," Sakura said, her voice sultry rather than reverent, "fuck me harder."

Fuck revenge, he wanted to savor every glorious second of this.

She, of course, didn't need to know that, however.

"Don't think this means anything," Sasori hissed as he pounded into her, shifting one of her calves onto his shoulder to switch to an angle where he could thrust into her even harder and more deeply. "I'm just giving you the punishment you deserve."

"For what?" she panted.

"For showing me so much damned disrespect, and for making me want to do this to you."

She smirked again and bucked her hips, meeting his relentless thrusts with enthusiasm.

"It's not working," Sakura said breathlessly between her moans, "because I want more."

Sasori's lips twitched. The idea of toying with her after all suddenly became very appealing indeed.

"Oh? But I've barely even begun to punish you, little girl," he purred. "I'll have you begging for mercy before the end."

He used his thumb to rub her clit as his hips rocked in a steady rhythm, making her squirm against him and moan louder. "I'll make sure you suffer for all the trouble you've caused me."

Sakura arched her neck and back with abandon, the pleasure she was feeling clearly visible on her flushed face; her eyes slid shut and her hands slipped over her breasts to squeeze them and pinch her nipples between her slender fingers. Sasori almost came then and there when she opened her eyes again and gazed at him hungrily through long and thick eyelashes, shamelessly fondling her breasts as he watched. He would never call this woman a little girl again after seeing that dark, openly lustful expression on her face, one that held not even a glimmer of innocence or shyness.

Her wanton enthusiasm; the sight and sounds and feel of her eager body underneath him; those intensely smoldering eyes of hers. All of it was fueling his desire for her tremendously, and he was overcome with a deep thirst for her; he simply couldn't get enough of this amazing woman and at that moment he wanted nothing else in the world other than to make her completely, utterly his.

Sasori narrowed his eyes. Stripping away his flesh had made no difference whatsoever in the end; he had regressed to being a slave to his physical passions once more, and it was all her fault.

Just when he felt Sakura begin to tense as she was about to climax, he abruptly pulled back, slowing his pace to prevent her from achieving release. She squirmed beneath him impatiently, frowning at his sudden shift.

He smirked down at her smugly. "I told you that I'd make you suffer, Sakura."

Yes, everything he'd suffered through over the past five years was all her fault, and it made him want to see her squirm even more.

"Twenty years," Sasori said, slipping the smirk off of his face and her leg off of his shoulder. He leaned down, pressing his body against hers.

"Twenty years of sublime, controlled perfection," he hissed in her ear, "and you've reduced me to this state in less than five."

He jerked his hips forward, enjoying her whimpers and the feel of her breasts bouncing and sliding against his chest with every hard, rough thrust.

Sakura cried out and tightened her grip on him when he sank his teeth into her where her neck and shoulder met and sucked on her skin hungrily, leaving behind an angry red mark.

"You've ruined everything I've worked for, and you deserve to suffer for it." Sasori pulled her arms from around him and pinned them to the bed by her wrists before shifting back so that his face was hovering over hers. His gaze locked intently with hers as he continued to fuck her mercilessly. He wanted to see her resolve waver, to see her submit, and then, to at last see her break.

That was what he had been intending, at least, until she arched up to kiss him before he could order her to beg.

"Punish me then," Sakura whispered against his lips, her fierce and hungry eyes staring into his, "Sasori-sama."

Sasori felt a shock run through his entire body as soon as the words left her lips. There had not been a hint of submission in her voice, but he found it very difficult to give a damn when he felt her start kissing and licking his neck.

"Please, Sasori-sama," she breathed in his ear, and he tightened his grip on her wrists when her tongue traced over it.

It wasn't what he'd been anticipating, but that surely counted as begging, didn't it? Besides, he never had been a patient man and he'd already used up just about every bit of restraint that he had left.

"Hmm, begging your master for punishment?" Sasori said silkily, and smirked when he felt Sakura tremble eagerly beneath him. "A dirty girl like you definitely deserves it."

And so, he began to speed up his pace, still fucking her just as roughly as before. She thrashed against his unrelenting grip on her wrists, bucking her hips to keep up with his ever-faster thrusts.

Everything else seemed to recede until Sasori's entire existence was dominated by the friction of his cock sliding faster and faster within Sakura's tight, hot inner walls, the sound of her moans and pleading cries that were growing louder and more fervent, the crush and slide of her soft body underneath his, and her eyes, pupils so wide that green had turned black.

"Sasori, please," she moaned, and he relished the desperation in her voice.

He felt as though his body was being steadily stretched and tightened and pulled unbearably taut. He later registered how odd it was that his mind generated such sensations even if his body wasn't even equipped with muscles to tighten; that primal part of his mind that he thought he had rid himself of had remained the same whether his body was made of flesh or wood.

Sakura didn't moan Sasori's name when she climaxed as he had imagined that she would, but the sharp cry that she made as release overtook her was just as sweet. Her inner muscles constricted and tightened around his cock repeatedly, and whatever he had anticipated that it would feel like couldn't begin to compare to the real thing.

The feel of it was too much for Sasori to take, and with a shudder and a loud groan, pleasure flooded through his body as he came deep within her; her body seemed to welcome it, squeezing and stroking him as her own climax subsided.

It had been so long that he had forgotten just how overwhelming an experience all of this could be.

The room became strangely quiet once again, save for the sound of Sakura's soft panting as she tried to catch her breath. Sasori rested his head on her shoulder, and neither of them moved or spoke for a long moment. He should have pulled out and away from her immediately, but remaining within her and pressing close to her still felt so pleasant, and then she had started to slide her hands up and down his back, caressing him with an unhurried ease and planting soft kisses on his neck.

"I'm surprised you didn't make a move this afternoon," she said suddenly.

Sasori propped himself up to see her relaxed, amused face. "What?"

"That would've been your perfect chance," Sakura said. "I mean, ever since that River Country mission, I thought maybe something was up, but...five years?"

"Don't misunderstand. If you're expecting me to confess my undying love, woman, think again," he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

Her amusement faded. "I'm not, and that's fine. I know it would be naïve to expect anything more than this from you."

"You aren't completely foolish then, good."

Sakura attempted to squirm out from underneath him, but he quickly pinned her down.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sasori said.

She blinked. "I didn't think you'd want me to stay afterwards, to be honest."

"I never said I was finished with you. You didn't seriously think once would be enough, did you?" he said, smirking. "Have you forgotten that this body is superior to flesh and blood?"

Her eyes widened as his hands began to caress her body.

"No, I'm afraid that you're going to be paying for what you've done to me for quite some time to come, Sakura. Tonight," Sasori murmured, "and tomorrow night, and every night after that until I'm satisfied that you've been punished enough, so you'd best get used to it."

Sakura grinned. "I'll cope."

As Sasori captured her lips again, intent on experiencing the pleasures of her body once more, he realized that his regression to that lesser state of existence that he had tried so desperately to ascend from truly was complete. It would be a long and difficult road back to the disciplined, emotionless ideal that he had once come so close to achieving.

Luckily, he had all the time in the world to start on it, so there was no need to rush.


End file.
